caring

I lost something very important to me last week. I squirmed. I obsessed. I bargained with God. The very minute I stopped caring…it came back to me.

Pass it along…
xox

I don’t want to harp on it, but hey, after the atrocities of this past weekend, I was reminded of the brevity of life and how many things still linger on my To Do List.
So, if I knew the world (or my life) were to end tomorrow, what would I regret not having done?

Walking the 500-mile pilgrimage of The Camino to Santiago de Compostela, through France and Spain. (My guess is that the success or failure of this undertaking rests solely in the choice of shoes).

Cleaning out my closet and giving away everything I haven’t worn in a year—which will leave me five pairs of black yoga pants and a tattered Oprah t-shirt.

Go somewhere remote and take a two-week vow of silence. Seriously. (Not the Camino, I may need to ask for directions).

Write everyone that I love a letter expressing my deepest, most heartfelt feelings and use the nice stationery that’s still wrapped in tissue paper in a sealed box.

Write one New York Times Bestselling book—or five.

Order dessert.

Take dance lessons.

Learn Italian.

Cut my hair short and spiky.

See Pompeii.

Speak at a TED TALK.

Sing Karaoke in a foreign country.

Wear the gorgeous gown I wore at my wedding again (which by-the-way was not a traditional bridal gown).

Along those lines: Stop saving anything for a special occasion.
Open that bottle of wine, use the good dishes, wear those diamond earrings, dance in those insanely expensive shoes with the three inch Swarovski crystal heels.

Eat my favorite meal, Thanksgiving dinner, more than just once a year.

Bake more pies.

Start telling stories onstage.

Disclose all of my secrets. Then make sure I die. Immediately.

Sell a screenplay.

Spend more money. Yes, you read that correctly!

Walk among pine trees more often.
A pine forest is my favorite smell on the planet, followed by melted chocolate, puppy breath, and onions and garlic sautéing in butter.

Smile more at strangers.

Hug my dog and my husband more often. I can’t imagine how that is possible, but I’m going to try.

What’s on your list? Care to share?

Carry on,
xox

GRACE
ɡrās/
noun

1. Simple elegance or refinement of movement.
“she moved through the water with effortless grace”
synonyms: elegance, poise, gracefulness, finesse

2. (In Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.

verb
3. Do honor or credit to (someone or something) by one’s presence.
“she bowed out from the sport she has graced for two decades”
synonyms: dignify, distinguish, honor, favor

“Go out into the world and be a source of Grace for people.”
~ Caroline Myss

Shit. That’s a tall order, right? I can’t do that. Be a source of Grace? What does that even mean? I read the definition and I’m still not sure.

You guys, are we out in the world being a source of grace — or are we a part of the problem?

The first definition made me blanche. It does not apply to me AT ALL.
My movements are as far from refined as I can be without calling too much attention to myself. Remember how Elaine danced on Seinfeld? That’s how I move through the world. Every step is void of poise, there is not a drop of elegance to be found, and as far as finesse goes? — forgetaboutit.

So…Am I the source of grace in that respect? No, no I am not. I am definitely part of the problem.

As far as definition three goes, well, I feel like when we can, when the stars align and we have some free time — we show up for people. We do our best.
Actually some of us drop everything and Grace certain people or places with our presence TO OUR DETRIMENT, or at least I used to. Now a days I’m super picky about to whom and where my Grace gets distributed.

So again I suppose I’m part of the problem, except…Just like fucks given, Grace can be depleted (in my opinion, the studies are inconclusive) — you can over extend, you can run out, and you only get what you get.

But unlike fucks, Grace CAN be replenished by other people bestowing their Grace upon YOU.

So there you have it, there’s what I think Caroline Myss meant by being a source of Grace for people.

Sprinkle it around, like fairy dust, like a tall drink of water to the parched masses.

Replenish each other.

You know the people in your life that need a re-fill.

And you can recognize them on the street.

They look pale and hollow eyed, over tired, over wrought, over stressed and more than likely over weight. In other words they are just plain over it.

Wait. I’m so confused. Blah, blah, Grace. Blah, blah, replenish each other. So how do we do that?

And there’s where definition number two comes into play.
Bestow your blessings.
Being a source of Grace is about bestowing your blessings, and blessings, unlike fucks and Grace, come in an unlimited supply.

Blessings look like volunteering yourself for babysitting or dog walking.

Blessings look like filling the refrigerator of a workaholic.

Blessings are about picking up the check or leaving a thirty percent tip.

Blessings can hold open a door, clean up a mess, fold laundry, hold a hand, drive carpool, give a foot message and bring the wine (two bottles please).

Blessing are bountiful.
Blessings are bottomless, and in my humble opinion, blessings and the bestowal of them is what being a source of Grace is all about.

So easy peasy, right? Not such a tall order after all.
Whew! Sometimes this spiritual shit sounds SO undoable.

Whatcha think? Any more ideas for being source of Grace for people? I’d love to hear from you guys!

Carry on,
xox